


Thank You

by Rhoa Lajak (cw151)



Series: Gendrya One-Shots [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Caring, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Gendrya - Freeform, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/Rhoa%20Lajak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya is sick. Gendry is bull-headed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> So here’s the second part of my series of Gendrya one-shots. Pure fluff, but why not? :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Gendry and Arya are George R. R. Martin’s. Ja’an is mine.

Gendry could hear the soft splattering of hot water as he entered the chambers he shared with Arya. This was definitely one of the best parts of making a name for himself as a smith and marrying her. Unlike during the war, when they had gone for days and weeks without a bath, he now had the pure luxury of taking a bath everyday after coming back from the forge. That, his full belly in the evenings and a soft bed to sleep in with Arya at his side were really all that Gendry needed, and what he cared about the most in his new life. After almost two decades of deprivation in the first part of his life, he couldn’t help to celebrate each of these moments anew everyday. 

Loosening his vest and undoing the top buttons of his shirt, he walked over to the bath. It wasn’t as big and luxurious as those of most highborns in the Red Keep, but it was more than enough for Gendry’s – and Arya’s – liking. Embedded in the stone floor, the square tub fit two comfortably and, most importantly, was connected to one of the few hot water passages running throughout the Keep. This meant that the servants only had to open the passage to fill the tub, and didn’t have to drag in infinite pots of hot water. 

Glancing at the tub, Gendry saw that it wasn’t quite full yet. The servants – he still couldn’t believe he actually had servants – would start filling the tub some time before he’d usually come back from the forge, so the bath was almost always ready when he got home. Gendry pondered for a moment whether it was worth reading for a while until the bath was full; he’d learned to primitively read and write when he was still an apprentice and had to occasionally man the forge when Master Mott was away, but now that he actually owned the forge, he definitely had to expand on these skills and would usually do so for some time each evening. He hadn’t quite made up his mind yet when he heard Arya’s fast, determined steps rush through the front door, followed by Ja’an’s softer taps. Gendry scowled in confusion. Arya had ordered a major combat training outside the walls of King’s Landing today and wasn’t supposed to be back until much later. He made his way back to the spacious living area of their chambers, hearing no talking but only the sounds of Arya’s shield and sword being put away. 

Rounding the corner to the living room, he saw Arya impatiently fidgeting with her armor as Ja’an hesitantly stood next to her. Despite being Arya’s squire, she seemed unsure whether she was supposed to help her mistress remove the armor. Biting her lip, Ja’an made a few indecisive moves with her hands and took a step back when Arya cursed under her breath and impatiently pulled at the strings holding her chest piece together.  
“You’re back early,” Gendry asked more than said.  
Arya whipped her head up, and Gendry realized she only just noticed that he was there. Very strange, given the fact that she usually heard him – or anyone – approach long before they were in view. Gendry scowled once again and took in her sight. Arya’s hair – now grown past her shoulders – had come partly undone from its braid, a few strands of hair falling across her face. Not necessarily an unusual sight. Even though Arya had grown much more comfortable being a woman ever since she was no longer forced to adhere to the traditional notion of being a “lady”, she still cared more about training and fighting and riding than about her hair or looks. Which also explained the mud streaks all across her armor and her face - also nothing unusual. What was extremely unusual, however, was that her eyes seemed glassy as she stared at him wildly and silently, and the exhausted expression on her face. Gendry’s scowl grew even deeper. She even seemed to be swaying on her feet as if she had difficulty keeping her balance. 

Ja’an seemed incredibly relieved to see Gendry. With a quick look at Arya, her brown eyes turned to him.  
“The Wolf Warrior is ill,” she said, coursing another glance at Arya as if her mistress were about to explode. “I think it may be Lysene Fever. Some of the foot soldiers suffered from it a few days ago. It is sharp but short.”  
“’m fine,” Arya mumbled angrily. “There was no reason I had to leave.”  
“Then why are you back?” Gendry asked, slowly taking a few steps towards her.  
“’cause Ja’an threatened to tell the Queen that I was ill if I didn’t allow her to take me back,” Arya replied, even angrier than before.  
“She almost fell off her horse,” Ja’an replied, stoically. “I am sworn to protect her.”  
“Vhagar stumbled!” Arya replied, heatedly. Gendry raised the back of his hand to her forehead. Heatedly in the literal sense, too, it seemed.  
“Ja’an is right. You’re boiling!” he exclaimed.  
“She should go to bed and sleep. I will bring chicken soup and milk of the poppy. It will help the fever,” Ja’an said, staring determinedly at Arya.  
“I’m fine,” Arya reiterated. “I just want to take a bath to get all this mud and sweat off me. I feel all icky.”  
“Well, the bath’s almost ready. Let’s get you in then,” Gendry replied, calmly. Experience had taught him that there was no use arguing with Arya once she’d set her mind to something. And that she knew herself that she really wasn’t well, otherwise she would never have let Ja’an take her home – threat of her Queen or not.  
Arya sighed deeply and stared at him for a moment, as if determining whether to put up a fight. Finally, she lowered her eyes and started walking towards him.  
“Help me untie those?” she asked, raising her hand so he could access the strings holding her armor together. Gendry smiled lightly and nodded.  
“Ja’an, chicken soup and milk of the poppy sound very good. Could you see whether you can find any? Milk of the poppy would be best soon, though, and the chicken soup maybe later for dinner,” he said, as he worked the knots on Arya’s armor.  
Ja’an nodded sharply, turned on her heels and marched out of their chambers, closing the door surprisingly quietly.  
Finally, Gendry had helped Arya remove all parts of her armor and her boots. He stretched his hand out to her.  
“Ready?” he asked.  
Arya nodded but ignored his hand as she walked past him. Even now her steps seemed unsure. Gendry shook his head to himself and followed her to the bath. Arya was already haphazardly pulling at her shirt and smallclothes. Her eyelids seemed heavy.  
Finally, she’d stripped entirely and made her way over to the bathtub. This time, Gendry was surprised to find that she actually took his hand as she carefully lowered herself into the tub. Her skin was covered in goose bumps and yet seemed scalding hot.

Once she sat down, Gendry turned off the water and began to take his clothes off as well. Arya tilted her head back against the wall of the tub when he sank into the water next to her. He watched her for a moment. She seemed utterly exhausted and her eyes were fluttering closed. Her breathing was shallow, and she seemed to freeze despite the hot water.

Gendry reached for a washcloth, drenched it in water and soap and moved closer to Arya. Once he’d reached her side, he pulled her into his arms, expecting her to pull away, but she only sank into his embrace with a content sigh. Gendry smiled to himself as he began to slowly wash the mud and sweat of her body. Whenever Arya was injured – he hadn’t actually seen her unwell before – she’d withdraw from him to nurse her injuries by herself. Or to “lick her wounds” as he’d like to call it. At first, she’d avoided him entirely, as if she was embarrassed to be seen weak, but they didn’t call him bull-headed for nothing. Slowly but surely, Gendry had worked his way repeatedly into her presence when she was injured, caring for her while always leaving her enough space to withdraw if she felt the need. That need seemed to subside more and more every time Gendry helped her re-gain her strength. Ironically, whenever he was injured (which didn’t happen as often as with Arya, granted), Arya would be constantly by his side, telling him what to do or what to eat to get better in her direct, no-nonsense way. 

Gendry carefully lifted her left arm to gently scrub it down, cleaning her fingers one by one before running the cloth all the way back to the back of her neck and massaging it slowly. Arya was seated with her back against his chest and seemed to melt against him. Gendry repeated his ministrations on her right arm, gently erasing all remnants of the day’s exercise, before proceeding to her face, throat and chest.

He let the washcloth move against Arya’s soft skin in deliberate, slow circles, and her head fell back on to his shoulder. Pressing a gentle kiss against her temple, he pulled her close to him and they just sat like that for a while, Arya molding against him and Gendry resting his chin on her shoulders. Arya’s breathing grew progressively deeper, and Gendry thought that it was now definitely time for her to sleep. He carefully disentangled himself from her.  
“You should sleep,” he whispered.  
“Soon. I have to wash my hair. It’s itchy,” Arya replied. With her eyes still closed, she leant back to rinse her hair in the water. Gendry moved one of his legs to support her back and took over the task of gently massaging her scalp. Once Arya’s hair was clean, too, Gendry helped Arya sit back up, and she had to steady herself against him.

They stood up together, and Gendry quickly hopped out of the tub, dried himself off and bound the towel around his waist.  
“Oh you don’t need that,” Arya’s voice sounded raspy, albeit involuntarily. She even managed a small smirk despite the fact that she had to continue steadying herself against the wall of the tub.  
Gendry raised his eyebrows.  
“I’m sure the servants and Ja’an think otherwise,” he replied with a small chuckle.  
“Don’t care. These are our chambers. We should be allowed to walk around naked if we chose,” Arya replied defiantly.  
Gendry reached down to help her out of the tub and to dry herself off.  
“Does that mean you want to walk back to our bedchamber naked?” he asked as he toweled her hair dry. “Not that I would mind the sight.”  
“No. ‘s too cold,” Arya replied, trying to suppress a shiver. She grabbed the towel from Gendry and wrapped it around herself firmly. 

Together, they moved across to their bedroom, and Arya quickly threw on her nightclothes before slipping under the covers. Gendry pointed to the steaming mug of milk of the poppy on the bedside table, that Ja’an had apparently deposited there while they’d been in the bath.  
“You should have some of that, if only a few sips,” he said as he tied up his trousers.  
Arya looked at the mug suspiciously.  
“It makes me feel tired and slow,” she replied.  
“But it’ll help you get better,” Gendry replied patiently.  
Arya relented, reached for the mug and took a few sips. Afterwards, she repositioned the cup and slid deeper under the covers, pulling the thick blankets up to her chin.  
“You coming?” she asked, yawning loudly as Gendry finished putting his smallclothes on.  
“Already there,” he replied as he joined her under the covers. Arya turned and snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest and hooking her legs in his. Her breathing began to slow, and Gendry started rubbing up and down her back to help her sleep. When he was almost certain that she had fallen asleep, Arya suddenly moved in even closer.  
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.  
“Always,” Gendry answered quietly.  
“I love you,” Arya said, just as softly.  
“I know,” Gendry replied, pulling her closer.


End file.
